


What Our Lives Have Come To

by SaxSpieler



Series: Verǫld Vǫrðr [2]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Awkward, F/M, Fluff, Gen, One Shot, a bit of comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7283533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaxSpieler/pseuds/SaxSpieler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the time that the (pre-WG) adventurer and her ex-Temple Archer traveling companion lived in the desert with Ali the Wise, things might have gotten a bit awkward when those two became a couple.</p>
<p>Technically SFW, but mentions of (OC/OC) sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Our Lives Have Come To

**Author's Note:**

> The product of several sin calls on Skype. First time writing anything remotely fluffy.

_This is what my life has come to._

She lays by his side in the strange, wispy grass that populates Zanaris, the sweet, alien smell of the moon’s flora and fungi filling her nostrils. Stealing a glance, she feels her heart skip a beat at the look of absolute serenity upon his face as he watches Gielinor rise above the tree tops, heralding the coming night.

It’s the first time she’s seen him like this. Truly at peace, carefree, and _calm._

This is Adrius unmasked. Unobscured. Unguarded.

She’s seen bits and pieces of that illusive Adrius throughout their travels.

Every now and then, his facade of disinterest and isolation slips ever so slightly, revealing a genuine smile, a spark of determination in his eyes, or a noticeable sureness in his stride.

Every now and then, she sees more of the clever, creative, and blindingly passionate man that he truly is, and she’s knocked sideways by just how… _beautiful_ that man is to her.

Every now and then, she feels a fire from within him, and perhaps from within herself as well, that perfectly matches that mop of wavy, copper hair that she wants so badly to drag her fingers through.

She feels her cheeks flush and hopes that he’s not looking.

_Good Guthix,_ she thinks, smiling to herself. _You’ve fallen in love, you dumb-arse._

Just as she had done when they first arrived in Zanaris, she reaches over and wraps her hand around his.

She feels him twitch slightly at the unexpected action, but soon, his hand returns her hold with a gentle squeeze.

For the rest of the night, they just lay there, their fingers intertwined.

_This is what my life has come to._

_I’m happy with that._

—

_This is what my life has come to._

He traces the contours of the muscled arm that loops securely around his chest. As he memorizes each inch of muscle under her tough, weathered skin, he feels her scoot closer to him in her sleep. Her hold tightens around him, and he feels her breath ghost against his neck as she places her head just beneath his chin.

At this, his breath hitches.

He’s still getting used to this much physical contact. It’s almost overwhelming, just how much a single touch can say.

A hand on a shoulder.

A pat on the back.

A night of… _oh dear, did he forget to put the sock on the doorknob for Ali again?_

For a moment, he entertains the idea of rolling off the bed and checking, but a single look down at the woman holding him makes him forget the thought.

_Finley._

The way she looks at him, talks to him, _touches_ him without ulterior motive or pretense – it’s at once liberating and intoxicating.

She sees through the masks he’s worn over the years – those masks he’s worn to shield himself, to make himself invisible, to make himself little more than a shadow walking in lockstep behind his father, older brother, and whoever else felt like ordering him around. She sees through all that, right down to his core.

And, she doesn’t try to change it, snuff it out, or chain it to some vague set of expectations.

She expects nothing from him but, well…

_Him._

Whoever that is…

He’s still not quite sure who he is; hell, he never was. But, for her, he’ll figure it out.

He rolls over, wrapping his arms around her sleeping form and returning her hold. Burying his face in her hair, he sighs, content.

_This is what my life has come to._

_I could get used to this._

—

_This is what my life has come to._

Ali stares down at the nalbound yarn sock situated carefully on the doorknob. _I’m locked out of my own house, again, by those two lovebirds._

Shifting his day’s work - a leather-bound sheaf of letters, dossiers, and other assorted documents that the citizens of Nardah had commissioned him to transcribe – out from under his arm, he spins in place and leans back against the exterior wall of the house.

_His house,_ he reminds himself.

In truth, he’s not locked out. If he wanted to, he could simply throw the door open and march in. However, the first time he had done that - the first time he had ignored the sock - he had come face to face with…well…

A beast with two backs, put simply.

It hadn’t been a particularly surprising sight for him, given his history as a Legate as well as his close proximity to humans as of late. He knew very well of their proliferative nature, and that their attempts at proliferation were not solely restricted to times of seismic activity.

It hadn’t been surprising for _him,_ no.

But, he was fairly sure that Finley had woken up the entire village with her rather vocal reaction to seeing him unexpectedly enter the house, and that Adrius - _poor soul_ \- had nearly suffered a heart attack from all the commotion.

From then on, for their sake, he had heeded the sock’s warning and given them their privacy.

The only problem was that the _cursed sock_ shows up nearly every other night nowadays.

How comparatively easy his life had been before Finley and Adrius took their vacation to Lumbridge that whisked them off to Zanaris… If the mutual attraction between those two had been obvious before, it’s now a palpable thing. It hangs in the air between them, thick, bright, and warm, like semi-solid sunshine.

Ali doesn’t mind its existence. Not at all.

He just minds when its existence keeps him from entering _his_ house after a long day’s work.

Quietly, he scoots over to the door and listens for any audible signs of activity. He hears nothing, so he carefully eases the door open and sticks his head inside.

Near silence welcomes him. No one screams or scrambles to hide. The only sounds he hears are a pair of snores, one markedly louder than the other. Sighing, he takes the sock from the doorknob and tosses it across the house, watching as it comes to rest near the foot of the doubly-occupied bed in the small alcove across the room from him. He can see the two of them, wrapped in blankets, and each other, in their sleep.

Finley has one arm thrown across Adrius’ chest and her head buried beneath his chin, using his throat as a pillow. Adrius, as a result, snores like a virius, the sound thin, strained, and too loud for comfort.

Whatever they had been doing must have sapped their energy to the point of exhaustion; no one should be able to sleep through that noise.

Ali sets his day’s work on his desk before padding over to the sleeping pair. Gingerly, as to not wake them, he nudges Finley’s head over until she no longer lays on Adrius’ throat. He flinches back when she groans slightly, but relaxes as he watches her settle her head next to Adrius’ chin, still sound asleep. Eventually, Adrius’ snores quiet, and Ali, at least a bit more content with the situation, shuffles out of the alcove.

Flopping into a chair and reclining, he lets himself drift off, finally, to sleep.

_This is what my life has come to._

_Zaros, help me._


End file.
